


Afterwards

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Crying, M/M, Magic, Miscarriage, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9017800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: “Our baby. Created by magic and now it’s gone by magic. Poof, gone,” he answers, taking in a shuddery breath. He uses the edge of the blanket to wipe his eyes and falls silent again.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cowardlyhorrorraven](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cowardlyhorrorraven).



> My Steter Secret Santa for cowardlyhorrorraven, who wanted hurt/comfort and is good with mpreg.
> 
> And thank you Thorin for your encouragement.

 

Stiles rolls onto his side, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. At least Deaton now has a real, padded hospital-type bed in the back of his vet office and blankets that don’t smell like dog beds. Probably because there’s been so many injuries and make-shift surgeries done here over the years.

And now one for him.

He hears Peter standing quietly against the wall behind him and hears murmurs from the next room where Scott and Derek are talking quietly with Deaton. Stiles feels his bond with Peter, steady his chest. It’s as strong as ever; the one thing in his life that’s never faltered. “I guess this is a full circle, isn’t it?” he says quietly, knowing Peter’ll hear.

Peter puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “What’s full circle?” before Stiles shrugs it off.

“Me. This. Our baby. Created by magic and now it’s gone by magic. Poof, gone,” he answers, taking in a shuddery breath. He uses the edge of the blanket to wipe his eyes and falls silent again.

 

Stiles was nervous about approaching Peter with the spell that could create a child. But a born werewolf and a mage and the right moon and a special potion and an ancient spell and it was possible. More than possible, it was can’t miss.

It didn’t take much to talk Peter into it. He wouldn’t have asked for himself, but since Stiles suggested it, he willingly (eagerly) agreed. A baby from the two of them.

 

Erica got pregnant in her third year of college and finished up her final year with her baby securely in a snuggie against her chest. Now Alice is a tiny, three-year old terror with free run of the rebuilt pack house.

Scott and Kira are still together, although not married, but it’ll probably happen. Right now, they’re both working. Scott at the vet clinic with Deaton, and Kira teaching chemistry at good ol’ Beacon Hills High.  When Kira would smell Alice’s head and sigh, everyone smiled and waited to see if she’d be next.

But surprisingly, it’s Cora who has the other pack’s child, a son who’s four. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t want to talk about the father. The boy, named David after her father, is probably going to be a wolf. At least it seems so by his scent, the way he sniffs at people, and the way he growls when he’s annoyed. Or maybe that’s just the Hale in him.

 

Obviously, people were concerned when Stiles talked about getting pregnant, but Stiles explained it as simply and clearly as possible. How it would happen, how his body would create a uterus and how at the end, it would be a c-section to get the baby out. He’d need to talk with Deaton about the last part, of course, but he could do that. He’d ask Melissa for help as well, see if she can do the pre-natal check-ups as needed; she’s used to supernatural medical issues and this one is a guaranteed happy ending. That was the plan.

 

Peter helps him up and they get him to the car.  Medically, he’s fine, he’s not even sore. Deaton used magic and simply removed their baby from his body as if it had never been there. There and then gone.

 

Peter could hear the heart beat right around ten weeks – all the wolves could.  Right around fourteen weeks, the pack commented on Stiles’ baby bump, although some thought it was just a belly from the enormous amount of food he was eating. Stiles asserted that babies need Cheetos, he’d read that somewhere, it’s on a website and the internet never lies.

Then, at the start of the sixteenth week, Peter couldn’t hear the baby. He didn’t say anything for a day; he’d checked online and read an article about how excess gas can affect hearing a baby’s heart beat on an ultrasound. And god knows, Stiles is a gas factory. But after the second quiet day, and the concerned looks from the other wolves in the pack, he called Deaton.

 

The doctor has an ultrasound machine in his office and it’s usually used for animals, but it can be used for humans. Peter holds Stiles’ hand while the former emissary for the Hale pack runs the ultrasound  wand over Stiles’ stomach. They look at the tiny baby, unmoving inside Stiles’ new womb. Deaton sighs and shuts off the machine, nodding at them both, and leaving them alone for a bit while he prepares the new spell.

It’s not physically painful when Deaton uses the mixture of herbs and plants, painting them on Stiles’ stomach. He says a few words and then there’s a feeling like a vacuum; like air sucked out of his lungs, but it’s out of his belly. And their baby is gone.

 

At home, the pack hovers nearby, unsure of what to do and how to offer comfort.  Stiles shrugged off Peter’s arm around his shoulder in the car, curled into himself to stare out the window. He trudges up the stairs to their suite at the top of the house, firmly shutting the door behind him, shutting everyone out.

The pack tries to keep quiet, giving them privacy. But it’s hard with Christmas coming and the two children anxious for the holiday and presents, but still wondering about their packmates who normally enjoy the noise and decorating for the holidays.

 

On the second day, Peter’s in the kitchen, eyes blurry as he puts the tea ball into the sink, adding milk and sugar into the ceramic mug.

“Probably a stupid question, but how’s he doing?” Scott asks. He keeps a few steps back from Peter, like he always does. Peter might be “reformed” and fully part of the pack, married to the pack’s emissary, but it doesn’t mean trust is automatic.

Shrugging, Peter says, “He’s let me bring him tea a couple of times. At least that lets me into the bedroom.”

“But he’s not talking? Not even with you?” Kira looks around the kitchen, where Derek’s off to the side. Isaac and Liam are standing silently outside the kitchen door.

“No, he doesn’t want to talk much about anything,” Peter says, still stirring the tea, back to everyone around him. His scent is sour, worried and fearful; it’s not something the others are familiar with, not from Peter.

Kira’s brow crinkles as she looks at Peter’s back. “He’s not talking with you – are you talking with anyone? I mean, I know he lost the baby, but… you lost your child, too.”

Peter’s hand shakes as he tries to pick up the mug, and he sets it down, taking a breath before he tries again. “I should get this upstairs before it gets cold,” he says. Walking out of the room, he brushes a hand on Kira’s arm and whispers, “Thank you.”

 

On the third day, the wolves can hear Peter and Stiles talking in their bedroom.  No one tries to listen in, but it’s good to know they’re talking. And crying, but talking.

Peter comes down and makes a grilled cheese sandwich to take back upstairs. Even werewolf healing doesn’t erase the dark circles under his eyes, but his scent isn’t quite so bleak and he tugs gently on David’s hair as he passes him

“Derek, could you take down the crib in the nursery? And put the clothes and things into a box? You don’t need to remove them, just box them up,” he asks his nephew, the pack’s alpha.

He nods and says, “Sure, Peter. Just leave them in the room, or would you rather we…”

Peter shakes his head and says, “No, but please box things up, he shouldn’t have to do that. But he might want to see them. We’ll decide what to do with them.”

“You could keep them. In case you decide…”

“If we try again, I’m sure we’ll want new things without the memories.” He sighs and says, “Maybe we can donate them to charity, but I don’t want to get rid of them without his permission.”

“Sure. Umm… let him know we …”

“He knows,” Peter says. He smiles when Derek squeezes his shoulder on the way out of the room.

 

The next day Stiles comes downstairs with Peter and they make breakfast. They’re careful around each other, giving the other gentle touches as they cook together. Most of the adults in the pack are at work, but the kids are there and Peter and Stiles makes scrambled eggs and toast for everyone. Derek’s there as the unofficial day care for both toddlers. Baby shifters don’t always work well in traditional day care. He has a soft spot for the youngest pack members and he’s remarkably patient, much more than he was with the betas when they were first turned.

“Papa said you’re sick,” Alice says. “Are you feeling better?” She has the same straight-forward stare that her mother has, and her dark blonde hair makes Erica’s claim that she’s a real blond seem possible. Maybe.

“A little,” he answers. He smiles at both children, and they’re too young to see how fake it looks.

“You smell funny,” David says, as he stuffs toast into his mouth.

“David, you know we don’t comment on how people smell. That’s private and it’s not polite to talk about it. Unless it’s an emergency,” Derek says, raising an eyebrow at the boy. He keeps his head down, concentrating on his food, which might be his version of giving Peter and Stiles some privacy.

The boy snorts quietly and goes back to eating. He already has serious Hale eyebrows and glances at Stiles, while shoving eggs into his mouth.

Stiles leans over and whispers, “ _You_ smell.”

Derek shakes his head and smiles. “You, you’re old enough to know better.”

 

It’s another night before Stiles is back in the living room, crammed into their corner of the couch. Peter’s next to him, touching from shoulder to thigh.

“Muppets,” Alice states firmly, settling next to her father on the other end of the couch. She points at the television and then her mother and repeats, “Muppets.”

“At least you could say please,” Erica tells her, hand on her hips. “Everyone okay with that? I know, I know, what again, the Muppets again?”

“It’s fine,” Scott says, looking around the room. “I mean, it’s okay with everyone, right?”

Peter just nods and moves slightly so Stiles can slip under his arm and rest his head against the wolf’s chest. Stiles loves this movie and could watch it nightly during the holidays.

Isaac and Allison grab snacks while Erica gets everything queued up. There’s minimal talking as they settle in to watch. Derek had ordered ‘no talking’ during one movie and David’s taken him at his word and quickly shushes anyone who talks unnecessarily during the movie.

Singing along is okay and about half the group is singing “One More Sleep Till Christmas” when Stiles sits up and says, “Where’s the ornament?”

Everyone freezes and looks around and looks at the tree. Early in Stiles’ pregnancy Peter bought a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament and put a tiny picture in it from the first ultrasound – so tiny that unless you knew what it was, it would just look like a blob. It was hung towards the top of tree, and in the lower branches are Alice’s and David’s ornaments.

Stiles turns to Peter and asks, “Where is it? Did you move it?”

“Yes, Stiles, I took it down.” He swallows loudly and sighs. “It hurt to look at it. We can get another one, if…”

“But you’re the one who took it down?” Stiles asks, taking a shaky breath.

Peter nods and says, “I’m not sorry. I just couldn’t…”

Stiles leans back against his chest and the scent of tears is heavy in the room while the movie plays in the background.

“Do you want to hold Robin?” Alice asks, holding out her stuffed fox to Stiles. He’s lost an eye and Boyd drew an eyepatch on him with a black marker, telling Alice he’s a pirate fox. “’Cause you’re sad? He’s good when you’re sad.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Stiles says and takes the fox, using his other hand to wipe away tears. “Do you want to sit with us, I promise we’ll be quiet.”

“Okay,” she answers and waits patiently until Peter picks her up and sets her so she can sit on both their laps, her head resting on Stiles’ chest, while Stiles rests his head on Peter’s chest.

Gradually, the pack settles down, turning back to the movie. They check on each other, moving a little closer together, taking comfort in the closeness of their chosen family.

“How are you, my love?” Peter asks, whispering into Stiles’ hair.

Stiles leans against him a little more, shutting his eyes and listening to quiet hum of the pack around him and the music in the background. “I’ll be okay,” he answers. “Maybe not today, but soon.”

Peter kisses his temple and nods. “Yes. We’ll be okay.”


End file.
